


The Death Vow

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:29:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9629813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: Narcissa’s dying wish binds Hermione to the Malfoy family until the day she dies. Or they do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WIP. Minor character death. Prompt from Strawberry Miko.

Narcissa’s opponent fell and she paused for a moment to watch the battle – it happened as if in slow motion around her. Her instincts sent her gaze to Draco – he was beside his father. They were swapping curses with Rowle and Mcnair and it made her blood boil. Narcissa broke into a run towards her family. They had been fools not to fight the Dark Lord from the start.

 

Pain flared in her left leg and Narcissa fell, skidding. She tasted dirt as blackness swallowed her.

 

Ears ringing, Narcissa blinked her eyes open. Something had woken her. Someone had _tripped_ over her.  

 

“You’re alive! Are you alright?”

 

The girl’s voice was high and breathy. Narcissa identified the Muggle-born witch – the friend of Potter’s. _Hermione Granger_. Then, her eyes spotted something black moving towards them. She knew that tangle of madness, well.

 

Surging with fury, Narcissa pulled the girl down, pushing herself up with the same movement. The mad witch running at them lifted her wand.

 

“No, Bella!” Narcissa yelled, placing herself between her sister and the girl.

 

But, it was too late.

 

The curse hit Narcissa’s chest and, at first, her senses were overtaken by pain. But the pain stopped and she felt light as a feather. Narcissa floated to the ground.

 

As if from a great distance, Narcissa heard the girl cast the killing curse. After a moment, she felt herself handled and she was peering up at the girl.

 

~*~

 

“Mrs. Malfoy! Narcissa! Can you hear me? Are you alive?”

 

Narcissa’s breath came in rattling gasps. She seemed somewhat cognizant. Hermione had run out of dittany long ago but Narcissa was beyond help. Her sister had cast something like the Sectumsempra and Hermione didn’t know the countercurse.

 

“You saved my life,” Hermione breathed. “Can I do anything for you?”

 

The older witch’s gaze fixed on her with sudden sharpness. “Protect them... Lucius and Draco...”

 

“I will,” Hermione promised. Narcissa hadn’t much longer. Her eyes glazed and blood trickled from her mouth. Hermione would hold the witch until she was gone.

 

“Vow to me you will protect them,” Narcissa gave a shudder and then continued in a barely-audible whisper. “Lucius and Draco… Continue the family. As a wife a-”

 

If she was capable of crying, Hermione would have. The past two days of fighting had robbed her of tears and she could only squeeze her eyes shut.

 

“I swear it,” Hermione promised, learning over her.

 

Bellatrix was a lifeless lump a few yards away. Hermione heard no more spells, saw no more flashes. The fighting was, likely, over. Harry had vanquished Voldemort yesterday but many Death Eaters decided to fight to their deaths, taking several students with them.

 

Gently, Hermione slipped out from under Narcissa Malfoy and made her way towards the castle. Hogwarts crackled with fire in several places and crumbled suddenly in others. Smoke billowed from one of the turrets. Hermione moved cautiously around battle detritus and ignored the bodies. She wasn’t ready to face the dead.

 

In the remains of the Great Hall, Hermione found the survivors gathering. Harry, Ron and the Weasleys, numerous other students, professors, and Aurors. And, yes, Lucius and Draco Malfoy. Hermione considered her promise to Narcissa satisfied. If not unmarred, they were alive. When McGonagall joined the Malfoys, Hermione looked away – they were about to learn of Narcissa’s death.

 

After exchanging significant looks with Harry and Ron, looks that said they had made it out alive but weren’t ready to hug, Hermione followed Ginny and Luna to the prefect’s bathroom to get cleaned up.

 

Luna filled the bath while Ginny and Hermione stepped into the showers. The hot water felt like heaven after forty-eight hours of dueling for her life. Hermione took her time under the spray, scrubbing away at grime and discovering spell burns. She finished rinsing the soap from her hair and picked up a nail brush. That was when she discovered the mark around her ring finger. No amount of scouring removed it.  

 

Frowning as she toweled off, Hermione held up her hand to Ginny. “What the hell is this?”

 

“That would be a wizard’s mark,” Ginny said, eyes large. She slipped on some clean school robes. “They give it to you when you _become their wife_. Who did that?”

 

Hermione shook her head as her mind echoed with the word ‘wife.’ Suddenly, she recalled her exchange with Narcissa. Hermione’s heart dropped into her stomach. Narcissa had asked her to watch over Lucius as a wife and Draco as a mother.

 

The next thing Hermione knew Ginny and Luna were fanning her face.

 

“Are you alright?” Luna asked.

 

Hermione felt hot and weak. “I’m just – no,” she said.

 

“Can you stand? Do you want us to fetch someone?”

 

“No, no,” Hermione replied testily, waving her hand at the other girls for some space. Her gaze locked on the mark on her finger and she felt ill. “I think I’m married to Lucius Malfoy.”

 

After donning clean robes and explaining what she remembered, Ginny and Luna insisted Hermione see Professor Snape; he knew obscure magic and the Malfoys better than anyone else.

 

Alone, Hermione sought the professor. As she made her way to the dungeons, she noticed families and students moving about the castle, restoring what they could, caring for the wounded, and recovering the bodies of the dead. She still wasn’t ready to discover who had been lost.

 

“Excuse me, Professor. I’d like your help in removing this,” Hermione explained when he opened his door.

 

Snape took her wrist as if reluctant to touch her and peered at the mark.

 

“Better come in and explain how that happened,” he said dryly, holding his door open.

 

Hermione did not feel comfortable enough in Snape’s rooms to sit. It was too dark to see anything properly and the air smelled like rotting flowers. Unsatisfied with Hermione’s lack of word-for-word recollection, Snape directed her to extract the memory of Narcissa’s dying wish and set it into his Pensieve.

 

When Snape emerged from the Pensieve, he was shaking. Concerned, Hermione moved towards him.

 

“Professor,” she began. It was with horror she realized that he was laughing. Hermione scowled.

 

He was laughing; he was _actually_ laughing. It was a strained noise, as if he didn’t make it often, and Hermione wondered if he might choke.

 

After a few minutes of wheezing, the professor fixed Hermione with a glare, “Don’t move.”

 

He stuck his head into the corridor and hailed someone. Hermione heard him bark an order to fetch McGonagall and then his black eyes pinned her, once more. He didn’t smile but he was, infuriatingly, amused.

 

Annoyed with Snape’s silence, Hermione made herself comfortable in one of the chairs before the fire. She watched the dark professor pour himself a glass of wine, his lips twitching.

 

“Really, Severus, we have wounded upstairs. What couldn’t wait?”

 

Professor McGonagall spotted Hermione and her tone changed. “Ms. Granger, is everything alright?”

 

Hermione opened her mouth but before she could reply, Snape’s cold voice cut over her.

 

“Your brilliant protégé has gone and agreed to Narcissa Malfoy’s Death Vow. The idiot girl has married herself to Lucius _and_ Draco Malfoy. _And_ she’s agreed to carry on the family line.”

 

“What?” Hermione gasped. All of the blood in her body seemed to be pooling in her feet.

 

“What?” McGonagall repeated, barely audible.

 

Snape merely sipped his wine and gestured towards the Pensieve.

 

Mouth dry, immobile with disbelief, Hermione sat rigid as Minerva fell into the Pensieve. She considered joining her but couldn’t seem to move.

 

“How do I stop it?” Hermione asked Snape.

 

“It cannot be stopped,” he replied crisply. “It cannot be undone. You’re married to them until the day you die. Or they die.”

 

“I refuse,” Hermione whispered, horrified to feel tears in her eyes.

 

The dark-eyed professor was no longer amused. “It’s too late to refuse, Ms. Granger.”

 

McGonagall emerged from the memory quite somber. She stared at the glinting swirls for a few moments before speaking. The fire crackled happily, oblivious to the room’s mood.

 

“Perhaps the Ministry-”

 

“Tsk, Minerva. You know as well as I that ancient magic – particularly familial magic – is not regulated by the Ministry. They cannot undo a vow.”

 

“What happens if I do nothing? Act as if the vow was not made?” Hermione heard herself ask.

 

Snape lifted a brow and turned to McGonagall. “I'll leave that explanation to you.”

 

Minerva nodded and gestured to Hermione. “Time for some damage control,” she said. “Come along and we’ll get this settled.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was late - or early, depending upon your point of reference. Hermione was dozing in the Headmistress’ office as McGonagall had directed her to wait there until her return.

 

Without a word, Snape snuck in with a Calming Draught, handed it to Hermione, and slipped out again. After a healthy swallow, Hermione was left with a blissfully blank mind. So, she dozed.

 

Minerva’s return with two chatting witches awoke Hermione. Irma Pince and Poppy Pomfrey ceased their conversation to find a student in the office.

 

“The Great Hall is full of wounded, Minerva,” Poppy muttered, an edge in her voice.

 

“You said they’re stable for the night and this shouldn’t take long. Ms. Granger is in immediate need of our assistance.”

 

As McGonagall relayed the details of the Death Vow, Hermione was subjected to shocked, pitying looks and the wall of former Headmaster portraits whispered furiously to one another.

 

“Irma, perhaps you can provide Ms. Granger with some information about Death Vows,” Minerva prompted.

 

The librarian’s eyes gleamed and her mouth went thin. Obviously, she was not keen to share what she knew.

 

“They are not commonly cast except by older families – like the Blacks. And, even more ancient, is the marriage of a witch to one or more wizards.”

 

“What happens if I do nothing?” Hermione asked. 

 

“An ignored vow attracts death. Should your vow to Narcissa be dishonored, or, in this case, either of the Misters Malfoy perish before you have lived as their wife and borne their children, you will perish, as well.” Ms. Pomfrey explained gravely.

 

“They’re grieving right now. Surely, this can wait - at least a month,” Hermione exclaimed, desperate to have time to process her situation and, hopefully, escape it. She noted the looks exchanged by the older witches and sank dejectedly back in her chair. They were humoring her!

 

“Irma, let’s leave these two alone for a moment,” Minerva suggested, directing Ms. Pince out of the room.

 

Poppy leaned close to Hermione and spoke in a hushed tone. “You may not care for either of the Misters Malfoy, but it is likely that you will experience physical interest in them… this may diminish after you fulfill the terms of the vow.”

 

Hermione blinked, unable to utter a word in reply. The whole idea was preposterous! _Simply preposterous_!

 

When McGonagall returned, it was to find Hermione alone and morbidly unhappy. She urged her to finish the rest of the potion Severus had left earlier and shared what more she’d wrestled out of the stubborn librarian.

 

“Vow magic is akin to the magic of Harry being protected from You-Know-Who by his mother’s love when she died for him. Narcissa protected her family by selecting you to care for both her husband and son.”

 

Hermione blinked sleepily as the Headmistress continued.

 

“It is possible she intended to separate your - _responsibilities_ to them but we shall never know. The vow has taken shape. This isn't the sort of magic that is written about. It is infused with love and cannot be taught or read about and understood.”

 

The last of the Calming Draught paired with Hermione’s exhaustion prompted McGonagall to send her to bed. Hermione didn’t recall a thing of her trip back to Gryffindor tower.

 

A rough shake startled Hermione and she wrestled with her bedding for a moment before she heard Ginny’s hissing whisper.

 

“Hermione, wake up!”

 

“I’m awake,” Hermione growled and then yawned. She cringed, feeling every bruise and burn to her bones.

 

“They’re saying some mad things out there. Is it true?”

 

Hermione fell back onto her bed, remembering the absurd discovery that she was magically married to both Lucius and Draco Malfoy.

 

“Probably,” Hermione muttered darkly.

 

“You need to get out of here before Harry and Ron find out.”

 

Hermione glanced at Ginny. The redhead was already Summoning Hermione’s belongings and filling her trunk.

 

A second-year appeared in the entryway. “The Headmistress wants Hermione right away,” she said, eyes large and goggling at Hermione. “Lucius Malfoy’s here.”

 

Cold fear and then hot prickles ran through Hermione at the idea of meeting with the wizard.

 

“Shit,” Ginny muttered. “So much for getting out of here unnoticed.”

 

“It’s alright, Gin. Thank you.”

 

Hermione tidied herself and then changed into the comfort of Muggle denims and a fuzzy jumper. She left Ginny in the Common Room to head off Harry and Ron when they appeared – goodness knew what they might do when they heard the rumors. The handful of Gryffindors in the common area watched Hermione pass through as if she were on her way to the gallows.

 

An image of Lucius Malfoy floated to the forefront of Hermione’s mind as she made her way through the castle to the Headmistress’ office. He was old enough to be her father but he wasn’t unattractive. That didn’t make up for the years he spent supporting the eradication of Muggle-born wizards and witches from the earth. In dark humor, she wondered if he would murder her, consequences be damned.

 

It was a surprise to find the devil alone. He stood staring at the fire and glanced up as Hermione entered. Inexplicable warmth curled in Hermione’s stomach. Lucius looked as tired as she felt; he’d been part of the battle. And he’d lost his wife. Likely, prompted by the voluntary sacrifice of her parents’ memory of her, Hermione hurt for him.

 

Lucius gestured a gloved hand towards the chairs and Hermione took the far one, pulling the pillow atop her lap. She stared at the fire, uncertain of what to say. She felt him watching her and grew warmer.

 

“The Headmistress has made me aware of the situation and, forgive the intrusion, but I've seen your memory.”

 

“I'm so sorry about Narcissa. I wish you'd had time to properly grieve before this reached you,” Hermione replied delicately.

 

Hermione felt her heart beat three times before he replied. She finally met his gaze and, again, felt something warm stir within her.

 

“Thank you,” Lucius said. He looked at his gloved hands, thoughts elsewhere.

 

The silence was brief, but Hermione sensed he needed a moment.

 

“I suggest your connection with me be kept secret and you, quite publicly, marry Draco.”

 

Apparently, he’d already put some thought into it. Hermione frowned in thought and her attention moved towards the relative neutrality of the fireplace.

 

“The media can be vicious and misinterpret ancient spells that might appear scandalous,” Lucius added.

 

“It seems to be all over the school,” Hermione replied, hands unconsciously fisting the pillow.

 

“It will die a rumor. Minerva agreed to assist in this.”

 

Lucius regained Hermione’s attention, her curiosity winning over her embarrassment. “Will the vow allow the secrecy?”

 

“Ceremony means nothing to magic this old. The wedding is for the benefit of Draco and our family. As for what the vow will allow, it matters only how we live.”

 

“Does Draco know?” Hermione asked in a small voice. Draco had openly despised her for the entire duration of their acquaintance.  

 

“I received a positively _gleeful_ owl from Severus. I can only imagine what Draco has heard,” Lucius mused, idly rubbing his fingers together.

 

Hermione noted it was odd he had not yet spoken to his son about the situation; she could only imagine how deep their troubles.

 

“How do you suggest everything proceed?” Hermione asked, trying not to sound as awkward as she felt.

 

When Lucius didn’t answer, she found him expectantly watching her.

 

“I've accepted the situation as it is. I do not intend to betray Narcissa, but I intend to look for a way to break the vow without hurting anyone,” she explained.

 

Lucius shrugged as if to say ‘so be it.’ “I expect your support in speaking to Draco, _Wife_.”

 

Hermione’s jaw clenched. “Of course. When?”

 

Lucius rose from his chair, leaning heavily on the cane Hermione knew to house his wand. His gaze moved speculatively over her and she wondered, precisely, how much he gleaned about her with sight, alone. She was certain there was a visible spell burn on her jaw and dark circles under her eyes.

 

“Join us at dinner,” he said.

 

“I'd rather like to help mend Hogwarts,” she countered.

 

“Let’s discuss it this evening, shall we?”

 

“Fair enough,” Hermione replied. She had no desire to enter a contest of wills with Lucius Malfoy. At least, not yet.

 

“I’ll expect you at Malfoy Manor at six o’clock,” Lucius said, leaving the office. 

 

Hermione nodded in reply, clutching the pillow tight. She took a calming breath, inhaling the spicy scent of clove that Lucius left behind and felt anything but relaxed. Despite the stilted conversation, Hermione was too aware that she was attracted to him.

 

 ~*~

 

The Headmistress was of the opinion that Hermione should remain hidden until the castle had grown quieter. Amidst her trunk and Crookshanks’ cage, Hermione rested on a cot behind a screen in a corner of the Headmistress’ office. McGonagall had directed her to get some sleep and Snape had delivered another potion. Luckily, neither professor waited to see that she drank it. Hermione had no inclination to sleep her troubles away; they would still be there when she awoke and she would have made no mental progress towards a resolution.

 

“You look positively murderous,” Hermione heard Snape say in a low tone.

 

Hermione wondered if Minerva had made a face because Snape spoke again.

 

“They won’t _harm_ the girl. I daresay she’ll be set for life.”

 

“That’s just it, Severus. It’s a waste, losing Hermione to that family. You know the type – they discourage witches from contributing to the world and she has such a bright mind.”

 

Hermione heard the sadness in Minerva’s voice and it brought tears to her own eyes. Obviously, they saw no future for Hermione without the Malfoys. Perhaps, her plan to find an escape from the vow was hopeless; that didn’t mean she would stop looking.

 

“I count this as a loss for us,” Minerva muttered.

 

“If you’re referring to the Ms. Granger I taught for six years, she will do as she pleases. Particularly once she understands the reach of her new-found influence.”

 

Hermione blinked. That was almost a compliment. And, he was correct; she hadn’t yet thought about the status and resources that would be her due as the Malfoy Matriarch. In spite of Hermione’s plan to think things through, she fell asleep with Crookshanks purring beside her.

 

When six o’clock came around, Hermione had snacked and donned her best robes. Having faced Lucius, she was less nervous; but when she thought about seeing Draco, she grew worried. All seven years she’d known him, he’d thoroughly despised her. She couldn’t begin to imagine how he would feel about being married to her without his consent.

 

~*~

 

When Hermione let go of the heavy door knocker, the last thing she expected was Draco to open the door and join her on the front step. Inexplicably, Hermione filled with butterflies as it happened. His eyes were narrowed warily at her.

 

“Draco,” she greeted, hoping he didn’t do something drastic.

 

“Hermione Granger,” he said. “Let me see the ring.”

 

“This wasn’t my idea,” Hermione explained, annoyed but willing to entertain Draco’s misgivings. The situation was downright mad, and he had just lost his mother.

 

Draco took her hand and pleasant warmth shot through Hermione. She glanced up at Draco in surprise to find a similar expression of astonishment on his features. So, she was not alone in feeling something when in proximity to Lucius and Draco. He peered at the black lines circling Hermione’s ring finger.

 

“Two snakes,” he muttered, releasing her wrist.

 

“Is it?” Hermione asked, squinting at the mark. She hadn’t given it a close look. 

 

“I didn’t believe it, you know,” he said, face carefully blank as he watched her.

 

“Me neither,” she said with a tight smile. Hermione placed her hand on Draco’s arm. “I’m so sorry about your mother.”

 

Draco held her gaze for a moment, his grey eyes shining with the last light of the setting sun.

 

“What did she say to you?” he asked, voice a hush.

 

Hermione swallowed, “She asked me to take care of you and your father.”

 

“By _marrying_ us?” he said wryly.

 

Hermione shrugged and gently replied, “It’s likely she meant to say more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to AuntieL and GaeilgeRua for beta-reading this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

When the door suddenly opened, Hermione and Draco jumped.

 

“Won’t you come in?” Lucius asked, gaze narrowed at his son.

 

Draco slipped around his father into the house. Hermione’s cheeks felt hot as Lucius cordially offered her his arm.

 

“Thank you,” she said, surging with incomprehensible delight to see him again. It was as if she’d been slipped a Cheering Charm. Hermione struggled to remain somber, reminding herself that the two wizards had just suffered a loss and she’d been thrust into their life, an unwanted wife.

 

Lucius led Hermione across the entry towards a corridor. Hermione forced her attention to the home and admiring it distracted her from her inappropriate elation. She glanced at the wainscoting and stumbled; hadn’t it been dark wood? She froze to witness the manor transforming itself. The dark wood trim became a rich cherry color, the rich green hangings became crimson, and the rugs went from grey to amber. Beside her, Lucius made a small sound but she didn’t know what it meant.

 

“If I had any doubts,” he said with a lift of his brows.

 

“I caused this?”

 

“The house recognizes you as its mistress and is adapting to suit your taste.”

 

“Oh,” Hermione replied, dismayed. Indeed, she preferred the new look but she wished Lucius and Draco had time to say farewell to Narcissa before Hermione’s preferences erased her from their home.

 

“The dining room is in need of refreshing,” Lucius drawled, guiding Hermione through a door. Was that a sense of humor?

 

Draco sat at the middle of a long table, head in his hands. Hermione didn’t know what the room looked like before, but it was lovely in shades like fall leaves. Lucius directed her to the chair at one end of the table and Hermione was pleased to see that the silver snakes on the china did not become golden lions.

 

When Lucius took the chair opposite Hermione, she made a note to see about shortening the length of the table. She looked up to discover that her thought had caused a disruption. The table had shortened to a more intimate size and Lucius and Draco were staring at her. Hermione shrugged. She wasn’t going to apologize; the house did it.

 

Likely, it was house-elf magic that made dishes appear on the table, just like in the Great Hall. Enticed by the divine smell, Hermione relished the meal. She noticed, however, that the table was quiet.

 

“I'm looking forward to helping with the rebuilding,” she said conversationally.

 

“You’re going back to Hogwarts?” Draco asked with a glance at his father.

 

“Of course,” Hermione said with a note of defiance. She would not be ruled by the wishes of others. “Would you like to help?” she asked, wondering if he would.

 

Lucius cleared his throat. “Returning right away might not be prudent.”

 

“I forgot,” Hermione said, feeling her face warm. How could she have forgotten the rumors?

 

“I’ll send the Headmistress a nice donation,” Lucius offered.

 

Hermione fought her frown. Lucius was being generous. He didn’t understand that it meant something to her to be there and restore the magic along with the structure. Or, he did understand and was consoling her.

 

“Thank you,” Hermione said, experiencing a little thrill when Lucius met her gaze.

 

Draco made a barely-discernible gagging noise but it stopped as quickly as it started. Hermione hid a hysterical smile with her napkin. How in the hell was she going to manage this?

 

Silence returned and Hermione caught Draco watching her. Not yet knowing his expressions, she sat back and toyed with her fork. She was losing her appetite in the uncertain situation. When she met Draco's gaze for the third time, she asked him if arrangements had yet been made for his mother.

 

“There will be a funeral in two days. You should attend with Draco,” Lucius replied.

 

Hermione waited to hear from Draco, but he said nothing. She frowned, wondering if Lucius would answer every question she directed to Draco. Was it always this way between them or was some other game at play?

 

Lucius dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin and cleared his throat. “Son, it's been decided that Hermione's attachment to me shall be kept secret and any children she has will be raised as yours.”

 

Draco sat back in his chair and gave Lucius a frosty look. “’It's been decided?’ By _you_?”

 

Lucius said nothing.

 

“You’ve made some spectacular choices for the family so far. I think I should be making my own decisions,” Draco bit out.

 

Hermione realized that this is where Lucius expected her help. She wasn’t about to take sides between them, but Draco’s anger at his father, no matter how justified, was misplaced.

 

“Father and son married to the same witch is…” Hermione closed her eyes a moment, experiencing a tremor of lingering incredulity. “Scandalous to say the least. I agree with Lucius that if there are children, they should be raised as yours.”

 

The dining room tilted on its axis and rotated; Hermione closed her eyes against it. She refused to be overwhelmed by the situation and faint like some damsel in distress.

 

“Of course, that makes sense.” Draco snapped. “But, I won’t have him making my decisions for me – not anymore.”

 

“Draco.”

 

The warning in Lucius’ voice made Hermione regain focus to find both wizards watching her. Undoubtedly, they were waiting to see if she fainted.

 

“What do you propose for living arrangements..?” Hermione asked. If she wasn’t returning to Hogwarts right away, she wanted somewhere to retire, alone.

 

“A suite of your own,” Draco replied with a glare at his father. He had pushed aside his plate and was drinking what looked like wine.

 

“When may I move in?”

 

“Your belongings are already upstairs,” Lucius said lightly, hiding behind his wineglass.

 

Hermione’s thread of patience tightened. “Was that your idea?” she asked.

 

“Yes, it was,” he replied. Lucius lifted a brow as if waiting to be berated for his high-handedness.

 

Hermione sipped her water. She had no interest in being predictable and it struck her that these two wizards were a lot like Harry and Ron; Lucius and Draco Malfoy were prats. She fought the irrational grin threatening to break her composure and stared back at Lucius for a moment. He gestured his glass towards her in a toast. They’d silently reached some sort of understanding.

 

“We should have the wedding next week.” Draco announced, gaining Hermione’s immediate attention.

 

“Next week!” Hermione parroted.

 

“I agree,” Lucius said.

 

“Well, I don’t!” Hermione trilled.

 

“Why not?” Draco asked, gaze narrow at her.

 

“Because I want to complete my schooling and enter Healer apprenticeship. I’m not ready to be married!” Hermione sputtered. “Let alone have children,” she added.

 

“How intriguing that you desire employment,” Lucius sneered.

 

Draco shrugged. “If you think being married keeps you from school and a career, you’re living fifty years too late.”

 

While Hermione was glad to hear that Draco did not harbor the same sexist ideals as Lucius regarding a working wife, she filled with nervous energy, again. Her hands gripped the edge of the table as the room swirled. The two of them were overwhelming. It simply wasn’t possible to be married to two men at once! What sane woman would ever choose it?

 

“Severus sent along a calming potion. Would you like it?”

 

“I just need a moment,” Hermione answered in a small voice, eyes still closed. She covered her face with her hands and anchored her elbows on the table, struggling to breathe evenly.

 

For a few moments, the clink of wine glasses being set on the table and her deep breaths were all Hermione heard.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Hermione asked, looking at Draco from between her fingers.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“You want to marry me?”

 

“We’re already married; I’m talking about a ceremony. …For the benefit of – our children.”

 

His answer was so pragmatic that Hermione went lightheaded. It was as if all of the blood in her body had evaporated.

 

She would not faint.

 

_She would not faint._

 

“I propose we continue this discussion in the morning. Hermione, dear, I’ll show you to your rooms,” Lucius offered.

 

Draco stood when Hermione did and it put her in confusing proximity to him. His jaw was clenched as if holding back anger but he leaned towards her. Instinct led Hermione to offer him her mouth. When his lips touched hers, she closed her eyes, filling with a craving for more. But Draco stepped back and reality came screaming back to Hermione. She blinked at him. Her interest devolving into annoyance at his smug expression.

 

“Night,” he purred.

 

Ice cold water. _Really_ cold. _North Pole cold_.

 

“Good night,” she replied and moved to follow Lucius.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there! I haven't given up on this one, yet! <3

As if in a dream, Hermione moved towards Lucius and he took her arm.

 

“I’m not delicate.”

 

“You’re overwhelmed,” he responded sagely.

 

“I don’t know how to handle this,” Hermione confessed as they climbed the grand staircase and then two more flights.

 

“I’d like to explain something about Narcissa,” Lucius said, gesturing for Hermione to proceed him down a corridor with lush, red paneling.

 

“Alright,” Hermione agreed, wondering if the walls had been green before she arrived. 

 

“My rooms are at the east end, there. Draco’s are the opposite direction, past the stairwell.”

 

Hermione tried to pinpoint distinguishing details about the corridor but failed. She wasn’t ready to note particulars with so many emotions still unsettled within her.

 

“This lets into your rooms,” Lucius pushed open a cherry wood door carved with an ornate owl.

 

“Sitting room. The dressing room and bath are through there. Your bedroom is through the door on your right.”

 

Wall sconces glowed into bright life, illuminating gorgeous furnishings in dark cherry and upholstered in eggshell silk. The elevated ceilings and accents of gold caught Hermione’s eye as she looked around. It was so elegant. She noticed empty bookshelves and then spotted the shrunken trunks containing her collection. It could wait until Lucius was done with her.

 

“Would you like anything to drink?”

 

“I wouldn’t say no to something with a kick,” Hermione replied.

 

Lucius flicked his wand and a serving cart appeared bearing glassware and bottles. He poured what looked like wine and held it out to her. Hermione moved close and accepted the glass. There were cushy chairs before the fireplace and more beside the floor-to-ceiling window.

 

Hermione had a view of the gardens; they were lit by roaming fairies. Malfoy Manor was like something out of a Muggle fairy tale. She sighed, wondering if she should pinch herself.

 

The fireplace crackled. Hermione found that Lucius had made himself comfortable in one of the chairs and ignited the logs in the grate. She joined him, relaxing bonelessly into the other chair. She sipped the wine and her taste buds hummed with pleasure.

 

“After consideration, I feel it fair to inform you… I am delighted by Narcissa’s choice in you.”  


Entranced by the fire and relaxed by the wine, Hermione didn’t feel it necessary (or tactful) to point out that Narcissa hadn’t a choice. Hearing that Lucius was pleased was a relief. Had he found some positive in his situation, then?

 

“Narcissa was a perfect wife; however,” Lucius paused to sip from his tumbler of amber liquid.

 

“Her dedication to our family came from a deep sense of obligation. She loved us but she was neither affectionate nor nurturing.”

 

Surprised that Lucius was sharing deeply personal details, she tapped her Gryffindor courage.

 

“Did you love her?”

 

“But, of course. You see, my dear, something unprecedented has happened. Perhaps, it is just me, but I feel as though you and I understand one another. I trust you.”

 

Hermione reflected upon her history with Lucius. There was little of it. She counted it most important that he, Narcissa, and Draco had chosen to fight Voldemort in the end. “It isn’t just you,” she confessed.

 

“You are the future of our family. _For_ our family,” he saluted her with his glass and emptied it.

 

With that, Hermione understood. He saw his family connection to her as an advantage, socially and politically. He wasn’t wrong.

 

“In addition to that, you emanate warmth,” he added in a lower tone. “I’d very much like to stay the night with you.”

 

Hermione met his gaze; her mind blanked and her limbs filled with frenzied butterflies. They were married. Magically. He and Draco had been stirring embers within her since her arrival. And… They were married.

 

Lucius stood and took Hermione’s glass; he set both on the tray.

 

“Shall I show you to your bedroom?”

 

~*~

 

When Hermione woke up, it took her a minute to remember where she’d spent the night. Crookshanks suddenly leapt onto the pillow and Hermione jumped.

 

“Where have you been, Crooks?” Hermione asked her purring animal, scratching behind his ears. He was a feisty kneazle and petting him anywhere but his neck earned a swipe of his claws.

 

The cat circled and plopped onto the pillow from which Hermione had just lifted her head. 

 

As Hermione readied herself to face the Malfoys, she recalled Lucius’ gracious response when she declined his invitation the night before. Physically, she was interested. Emotionally, she wasn’t at all ready. Besides, breaking Narcissa’s vow meant she wouldn’t need to be intimate with either wizard and Hermione was determined to be optimistic. 

 

Raised voices met Hermione’s ears as she descended the stairwell and headed towards the dining room. She held her breath as she neared. Lucius and Draco stood across the table from one another. Lucius appeared calm, sipping from a teacup. Draco’s cheeks were pink and his hands were fisted in the folds of his robes. 

 

Lucius nodded in greeting at Hermione and Draco spun around. 

 

“Good morning,” she said, stepping inside, ignoring the tension. 

 

Draco stomped past Hermione in a cloud of fury. His minty, masculine scent lingered. Was it a perfume? Hermione fought the urge to sniff her robes where he’d brushed her. 

 

Lucius sat when Hermione did. She helped herself to toast and tea, glancing at the quiet wizard across the table through her lashes. He appeared pensive as he perused the Daily Prophet. 

 

A soft rustling of wings preceded the arrival of owls in the dining room. Hermione wondered where they entered the manor until four landed before her, each jostling to deliver its scroll, first. Recognizing tiny Pigwidgeon, Hermione untied his leg. Without even a hoot of acknowledgement, Pig disappeared in a flurry of his tiny wings. Hermione untied scrolls from the other three owls, noticing Lucius' narrowed gaze on them. The owls flapped after Pig as they were freed.

 

"I doubt they're offers of congratulations," Lucius muttered darkly.

 

Hermione replied with a cold smile. He was, undoubtedly, right. And, he was. There were letters from Harry, Ron, and Neville. All confused, all demanding answers. After reading them, Hermione felt as though the wind was knocked out of her. Ron's was the worst, calling her a traitor. What could she expect? The enmity between the Malfoys and the Weasleys was no secret. Ginny's letter was a calm inquiry after Hermione and begged for her understanding on the boys' behalf. No one seemed to know the truth but the rumors were outlandish. Ginny asked what she should say.

 

Hermione tucked away the letters to answer later.

 

"I would like to show you the house," Lucius offered as Hermione dabbed a napkin at her mouth.

 

"No, thank you. I won't be here long enough for it to matter. I intend to break the magic of the vow."

 

Hermione left the table and Lucius followed her into the corridor.

 

"I'll show you the library, then. Unfortunately, there is little written on Death Vows."

 

"All the same, I'll have a look. What were you and Draco arguing about?" she added, steering the conversation. She didn't want his negativity clouding her intentions.

 

"An indelicate topic," Lucius replied, directing Hermione into the eastern wing and up a staircase.

 

"I'm not shy," Hermione countered.

 

Lucius glanced at her with a raised brow. "The potential complications of sharing a witch."

 

A blush warmed Hermione's cheeks. Well, she's asked.

 

"Oh?"

 

They stood before a grand double door but Lucius gave no indication of the doors letting into the library and no indication to continue walking. He narrowed his eyes at Hermione.

 

"Draco is having difficulty coming to terms with the situation."

 

"Who wouldn't?" Hermione reasoned.

 

"Me," Lucius said.

 

Hermione stared at him. She knew he'd made peace with the idea of her as a wife and even found benefits to their situation. But she hadn't counted on Lucius being so forthright with his thoughts.

 

"I am content to hide our interactions even from Draco, if I must."

 

"That's... Considerate," Hermione admitted. She hadn't expected such selflessness from Lucius.

 

"Tsk, it's necessary," Lucius hissed.

 

Chided into silence, Hermione was glad when Lucius finally opened the door and gestured inside. He led her towards a desk and cast a light spell at the ceiling.

 

"Over time, sunlight is damaging," he explained. "Have you used an index?"

 

Hermione nodded but didn't bother to add that it had been at a Muggle library and not a wizarding one. Her breath was stolen as the light spell brightened and the breadth of the library was revealed. Sumptuous, leather-bound books lined the walls from floor to ceiling.

 

As if he suspected the truth about the index, Lucius pulled a thin tome towards them and flipped it open. He plucked a quill from its holder and delicately dipped it into ink. Hermione enjoyed watching him. Lucius had a graceful manner that reminded Hermione of a ballet dancer but, for some reason, her mind suddenly imagined what his hands would feel like moving over her skin. 

 

“Write your topic, title, or author in here,” he said, gesturing for Hermione to take the quill.

 

With trepidation, Hermione took the feather without touching Lucius’ hand. She didn’t want to risk brushing him. A wild image of the most innocent brush against one another devolving into a hedonistic kiss almost made her giggle. 

 

“Just anywhere?” Hermione asked, surprised at the throatiness of her own voice. 

 

Lucius didn’t answer until Hermione glanced up at him. 

 

“Any page will do,” he replied lightly. 

 

Hermione felt her temperature rise at the penetration of his gaze. He was contemplative, considering her. She wondered if he knew where her thoughts had taken her. Or, perhaps he was having thoughts of his own. The idea almost made Hermione’s knees give way. She needed to be strong for a little while longer. The Death Vow must be broken. 

 

Concentrating her focus, she scrawled ‘death vow’ into the book and waited. 

 

‘Poetry, 17-6’ appeared on the page in ink as if written by an invisible hand. Hermione gasped and dropped the quill as she took several quick steps back from the desk. 

 

“My dear?”

 

Hermione’s suspicious glance elicited a scowl from the wizard. 

 

“It’s not going to bite you.”

 

“Tom Riddle’s diary,” Hermione hissed, infuriated. She crossed her arms across her chest, remembering the book that wreaked so much havoc in her Second Year at Hogwarts. Thinking on the incident reminded her of Lucius’ role and suddenly, she remembered meeting Lucius in Flourish and Blotts for the first time. He’d behaved horribly. He’d insinuated awful things about her parents. 

 

“The magic is similar but this book does not hide the Dark Lord’s soul,” Lucius replied grimly. 

 

Filled with an emotion much darker than she had felt only moments before, Hermione marched back to the desk and grabbed the book. She summoned the quill and scribbled “death vow” onto the blank page. 

 

‘Poetry, 17-6’ reappeared.

 

“I will find a way to break this spell,” Hermione promised, gazing steadily at Lucius. “Now, how do I find the book?”

 

After explaining to Hermione that the index referenced a shelf and book number, Lucius left her alone in the cavernous library. She noted his subdued manner and dismissed it. Somehow, she had forgotten precisely to whom she was bound. 

 

Unfortunately, the book was a slim volume of ancient poetry. There was nothing of substance in it about Death Vows. The poem simply mentioned one in a silly rhyme with cows. Hermione tried looking for more works by the poet but found nothing. She also looked up other vows but the books made no mention of death vows and none of the magic struck her as similar. 

 

She had been warned that it was old, that the magic wasn’t written about. 

 

Hermione closed the book on her lap and looked at the mess she’d made. She had claimed an overstuffed chair and books and scrolls lay in piles about her feet. A lamp glowed beside her and a low fire flickered in the library’s grate. Had the library always been so cozy or had the room adjusted to her ideals?

 

A house-elf had left her a plate of dinner. Hermione didn’t see a clock but guessed the hour to be late. She’d spent the entire day in the library, alone. 

 

Where else could she learn about obscure magic? The Hogwarts Restricted Section? Surely, the Headmistress would have known it if there was a book that could help her. A larger library! If any collection might have the book to help, it was the International Wizarding Library of Berlin. She’d visit the next day.

 

Pleased to have a plan, Hermione sent her books and scrolls flying to their proper places with a few hasty flicks of her wand. 

  
The next morning, Hermione didn’t see either Malfoy as she broke her fast and prepared herself for the multiple Apparition trip. It was a relief not to face them. Perhaps, they had come to their senses and realized that Hermione would succeed in breaking Narcissa’s magic. Lucius and Draco Malfoy did not want to be married to Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger could not comprehend being married to _two_ Death Eaters.

 

It was the right thing to do.

 

Hermione did not look back when she fastened her cloak and left the house for the edge of the property where she could Disapparate.

 

Hours later, Hermione rolled her head to stretch her neck. She’d found nothing. There was another bad poem that mentioned death vows and a scroll on death magic but it was devoid of detail. She looked up as footsteps stopped beside her and, for some reason, felt like she was in trouble.

 

Draco dropped into an empty chair. 

 

“It isn’t safe for you to travel alone - particularly so far,” he whispered. “Kidnapping and ransom is a real threat for our family.”

 

“Am I supposed to travel with a guard?” Hermione bit.

 

“You’re supposed to be smart,” he snapped in reply. 

 

A gargoyle shushed him from above and Draco shot it an irritated scowl. Hermione fought the irrational urge to laugh. 

 

“Don’t you think if there was a way out of this, me and my father would take it?”

 

All humor evaporated from Hermione’s senses and she found herself suddenly blinking tears from her eyes. He was right, of course. They weren’t bringing her into their lives by choice. With cold hands, she silently rolled up the scrolls and stacked the books. 

 

“Damn it, Granger, you’re a Malfoy now. We can’t protect you if we don’t know where you are,” Draco hissed, tucking her arm under his and guiding her through the library. 

 

Loss and anger warred in Hermione’s brain and she leaned on the wizard beside her.

 

It seemed there really was no way to break Narcissa’s final spell. 

 

“Merlin,” Hermione breathed. She felt the need to sit down and pulled away from Draco.

 

Then her world went black.


	5. Chapter 5

“She wasn’t raised with magic. Why would she understand the immutability of agreeing to Narcissa’s vow?”

 

“It’s difficult not to take it personal.”

 

“And Draco?”

 

“He’s angry with me; not her.”

 

“She’s awake. She’s listening.”

 

“My dear, are you alright?”

 

Hermione blinked at the unfamiliar room. Where was she? She sat up quickly, sending Crookshanks leaping off of her feet.

 

“You’re safe. You’re home,” Lucius said. 

 

Hermione fixed her bleary gaze on Lucius and then the other figure in the room: Severus Snape. 

 

“What happened?” she asked, rubbing her suddenly aching head. 

 

“You lost consciousness at the Berlin Library.”

 

“Did I?” She muttered, squeezing her eyes closed, seeking memory. Yes, she had been there. It seemed a long time ago. 

 

“What day is it?”

 

“It’s been but a handful of hours. How do you feel?”

 

Embarrassed by Lucius’ concern, Hermione smoothed her curls, hoping she wasn’t too untidy. Her mind replayed a striking phrase that she’d overheard and required investigating. 

 

“You said something about the ‘immutability of my agreeing to the vow’?”

 

Snape made a derisive sound and meandered away to look out of the window. Unperturbed, Hermione continued. 

 

“I should be examining contract law!” She exclaimed, excited to have a new angle to research. 

 

Another growl of disgust emanated from Snape and he sailed towards her. 

 

“How do you not comprehend?” The wizard thundered. 

 

“Severus,” Lucius hissed in warning, stepping to stand between him and Hermione.

 

“If you continue to fight it, you’ll all fall ill. You’ll all _die_.”

 

With a stern, accusatory glare, Snape strode out of the parlor. Hermione’s wide eyes filled with tears and she hastily wiped them away. 

 

Lucius gazed thoughtfully after Snape and perched beside Hermione on the bed.

 

“I’m not ‘fighting it’,” she said, chin high. “What harm is there in looking for a way to release us from the vow?”

 

“My dear - Hermione,” Lucius corrected. “Research to your heart’s content. But, have you considered that you might be happy here, with us?”

 

Hermione’s heart skipped. No, she hadn’t. 

 

“What about you and Draco? Could you be happy with a Muggle-born witch for a wife?”

 

“I’ve expressed my opinion. Was I not clear?”

 

A wave of warmth rocked Hermione and left her tingling pleasantly. 

 

“Narcissa didn’t have a choice,” she said softly. 

 

“She knew what she was doing,” Lucius purred. He cleared his throat and continued in a more gathered tone. “Only a handful of us know she passed before she completed the spell. While she may have had no intention of your marriage to both Draco and myself, she couldn’t have selected a more suitable witch.”

 

Hermione was speechless. Yes, alright; Lucius clearly felt the situation favorable. Was it possible that Draco ever would? And, what of herself? Could Muggle-born Hermione Granger find contentment as a Malfoy?

 

“Thank you, Lucius,” Hermione replied demurely. “I neglected to eat, today.”

 

“My dear, if you don’t take care of yourself, I’ll be forced to have one of the house-elfs shadow you.”

 

Hermione didn’t know whether he was joking or not but she gave him a small smile.

 

“Narcissa’s funeral is this evening.”

 

“In how long?”

 

“One hour. Are you well enough?”

 

“Yes. Er, is this your bedroom?” Hermione slid from the bed, more self-conscious than ever. Sparks shot through her when her thigh brushed his.

 

Two heartbeats thumped before Lucius replied.

 

“Yes,” he said, standing and gesturing towards one of the doors.

 

“Thank you,” Hermione said softly, unable to think of a more suitable comment. Lucius inclined his head. Hermione exited the bedroom and found herself in a masculine sitting room. Massive, dark-wood and emerald-upholstered furnishings dominated the space but, somehow, made it cozy. A year ago, she wouldn’t have bet that she’d ever see Lucius Malfoy’s bedroom and sitting room. Hermione pushed the thought from her mind and stepped into the corridor.

 

“A word, Ms. Granger,” the droll voice of Severus Snape halted Hermione.

 

“Yes, er, Professor?”

 

“Lucius is my friend.”

 

“Yes,” she replied slowly.

 

“I don’t have friends.”

 

“Oh,” she replied struggling to converse with the taciturn wizard.

 

“You don’t strike me as a witch with feminine foibles. Is it your habit to lose consciousness?”

 

“No,” Hermione replied, making a face. She didn’t like that she’d been overwhelmed to the point of fainting. Not even a little.

 

“It’s the vow,” he said, voice softer. “The spell is already weakening you.”

 

Hermione met his dark eyes in sudden understanding. 

 

“Don’t cause this family more unnecessary pain.”

 

Understanding that she was being threatened sent a dart of fear up her spine. Hermione gave no reply but Snape appeared satisfied and spun on his heel.

 

Appropriately shaken, Hermione hurried to her room and closed the door. She leaned on it as her gaze meandered the sitting room, fixating on the familiar: a picture of her with Harry and Ron, rows and rows of memorized book bindings, and a feather necklace from Luna. Longing for Gryffindor tower and her friends consumed her. For a moment, Hermione allowed the grief brimming in her heart to cascade up and out of her eyes. Would she ever see them again? Would they still be her friends? Tears dripped silently down her cheeks. It was as if an ogre had reached into her chest, grabbed ahold of her innards and ripped them out. Hermione allowed herself a few minutes of pure wallow before sucking down calming breaths. She had Narcissa’s funeral to attend.

 

~*~

 

Lucius and Draco led Hermione and Snape by foot through the forest east of the manor. The trees were thick but a short path led them to a clearing. Feet faltering at the sight of reporters with their quills and cameras at the ready, Hermione was grateful when Lucius urged Draco to fall back to walk beside her. The pale wizard’s eyes were red-rimmed but dry. Hermione reminded herself that she was there for him and she forgot about the reporters.

 

She and Draco followed Lucius and Snape past a couple of rows of chairs and Hermione finally spotted it: the pyre. Narcissa’s body lay stiff, clad in gold robes, atop a neat mountain of branches. The family gathered before the pyre and Lucius lit it without a word.

 

Beside her, Hermione felt Draco stiffen and heard him suck in a sudden breath. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He turned a grateful stare on her; she returned his stare, wondering if he, truly, might find contentment with her.

 

The snap of shutters interrupted the moment and Hermione realized she and Draco had provided the reporters with a scene for which any number of headlines might suit. At least the jackals were keeping their distance.

 

Draco held onto Hermione’s hand as he and Lucius turned to receive the condolences of guests. There were more guests than Hermione had noted; she got a shock to recognize Harry among them and released Draco to smother Harry with a hug. He gave an awkward chuckle but returned the embrace.

 

“I’m so sorry about your mother,” Harry offered Draco. The pale wizard gave a solemn nod of thanks and sidled towards his father, leaving Hermione to speak with her friend.

 

“Well,” said Harry, his green eyes boring into Hermione’s very soul.

 

“Yes, I’m married to – to -” Hermione’s thoughts stumbled. How could she lie to Harry?

 

“To Draco Malfoy,” he finished.

 

Hermione nodded. It wasn’t a lie.

 

“You should answer some letters. Everyone’s a bit worried.”

 

Hermione nodded, again. “I forgot. I’ve been… Preoccupied.”

 

Harry’s glance darted from Hermione to Draco and he narrowed his eyes. Hermione felt warmth crawl up her neck. The last thing she needed was her friend convinced she had a physical relationship with Draco… Oh. The entire world would assume that being that she was _married_ to him.

 

“I’ve been researching how to break Death Vows,” Hermione hurried to explain. “With no luck. You don’t know anything about them, do you?”

 

Harry grinned, “You’re the first one I’d ask. If you don’t know, I certainly don’t.”

 

A smile curled Hermione’s mouth and she took Harry’s hand.

 

“I’m so happy to see you.”

 

“It’s good to see you, too. I’m glad you’re well but I’m going to take my leave. Maybe you can come to dinner at the Weasleys’ some night.”

 

After a parting hug, Hermione blinked tears from her eyes and watched Harry disappear among the other black-cloaked mourners. She rejoined Draco and reclaimed his hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze and his thumb caressed her knuckles.

 

For the most part, Hermione was ignored. And she was just fine with that. The hand grasping hers had captured her focus. After lacing his fingers between hers, Draco’s thumb swept slow, mesmerizing circles across her palm. Shivers of pleasure raced through her, no matter how inappropriate their timing. Hermione wavered between remaining stoic and enjoying the situation; she didn’t want to damage a potential bridge between her and Draco but she didn’t want to dissolve into a puddle of goo, either.

 

“Severus and I are heading inside,” Lucius said.

 

A couple of hours had passed; all of the reporters and most of the mourners had gone. The pyre had burned down to coals. Without a word, Draco tightened his grip on Hermione’s hand and pulled her towards an ivy-strangled folly. Before she could ask what he was doing, his lips were on hers and she was lost. Chilly marble was at her back but a hot-blooded wizard held her there, fists in her robes. The world fell away. Only Draco’s mouth and the press of him against her existed. Hermione was breathless when he pulled back. She leaned against the marble, panting, hands still raised as if holding a ghost. After a heartbeat she realized that he hadn’t just stepped back, he’d left her there.

 

Cool rage lifted under Hermione’s skin. That was it. No more tip-toeing around Draco Malfoy. No longer would she entertain his hot and cold behavior. Armed with the fury of a woman scorned, Hermione marched back towards the manor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working on this one - thanks for sticking around for it! XXOO

As Hermione stormed through the mansion, her feet pushed her straight up the stairwell to Draco’s suite door. At her hasty knock, he whipped it open.  
  
“I’m not going to live like this, Draco,” she gasped, short of breath after her swift ascent up the stairs.   
  
“Are you all right?”   


Momentarily distracted by his concerned tone, Hermione blinked at him. “Not at all. I will not carry on like this – not speaking – and establish a relationship with you.”  


“What is there for us to talk about?” Draco grumbled, looking heavenward as if exhausted.   


“I want a connection. A mental and emotional connection…” Hermione struggled to explain.   


“Why complicate it? We’re trapped with one another.”  


“At least we agree on that,” Hermione muttered. She met his grey eyes and some of the fight left her. It was easy to forget that she was not alone.   


His hand grasped hers and he used his grip to pull her into the room. Electricity crackled through Hermione’s limbs as Draco wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest.   


“What about this?” he asked, voice low.   


“What about what?” Hermione whispered, looking up at his face through her lashes. He expected her brain to function? Honey-sweet heat was surging through her in languid waves and it took everything she had not to take to her toes and press her lips to his.   


“Do you feel something?”  


“Yes,” she replied, voice barely audible.   


“That’s two things we agree on, then.”  


Hermione wanted to huff and argue but her mind took a different direction. How could she be in the arms of Draco Malfoy? Didn’t he loathe muggle-borns? How could he agree to her as the mother of his children? With heat crawling up her cheeks, she extracted herself from him.   


“What do you need to accept our situation..? The ceremony?” Draco asked, leaning against a desk.   


Free of Draco and whatever magic that dulled her mind when she touched him, Hermione noticed her surroundings. Draco’s sitting room was stark and all pale shades of gold and silver. She perched on an overstuffed chair and crossed her arms, not trusting herself enough to relax. If she dropped her guard, she’d probably succumb to the desire the wizard inspired in her.   


“How can magic force a significant life decision on three people?” she demanded.   


“Magic isn’t sentient,” Draco replied, toying with a jeweled letter opener.   


“I know,” she snapped.   


“It’s a spell.”  


“I don’t accept that a spell exists without a way to reverse it,” Hermione quickly replied.   


“Ancient magic like the Death Vow isn’t one you can study.”  


Right then, Hermione decided she would become the authority, whatever it took. She glanced up and found Draco watching her with a knowing smirk, as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.   


“You distracted me,” she said, realizing he was manipulating her.   


Draco shrugged and flipped the letter opener, neatly catching it.

 

“Why..?”  
  
“We’re approaching an uncomfortable conversation,” he sighed, tapping the tiny blade on his thigh.   
  
“By all means,” Hermione goaded, dead curious. How much more uncomfortable could it get?   
  
Draco glanced at her and flipped the knife again.   
  
“My father is supposed to talk to you about it.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“He’s more… Eloquent.”  
  
“And tactful, I’m sure. Give it a shot,” Hermione bossed, leaving behind curious for annoyed.   
  
“We discussed heirs at length. All should be raised as mine...”  
  
Oh. _That_.   
  
“Yes..?” Hermione prompted.

 

Draco examined his blade, avoiding Hermione’s stare.   
  
“And we agreed that should you engage in _wifely duties_ with one of us, you do so with the other… Within twenty-four hours.”  
  
Horror slowly slid through Hermione. He and his father had actually discussed that?   
Embarrassed tears welled in her eyes and she quickly dashed them away.   


“ _Wifely duties_ , Draco? _Really_?” she trilled.   
  
“You should have let my father say it,” he muttered.   
  
“How can you do this? How can you agree to this without a fight?” Hermione heard the tremor in her voice and swallowed a sob. She wouldn’t cry.   
  
Draco dropped the letter opener into the sleek silver desktop and stood up to stalk towards her.   
  
“It’s not something that can be fought. Why would I waste my time?”  
  
Hermione blinked at him, at a loss.

 

“Would it make you feel better if I threw a tantrum?”   


Despite herself, Hermione let a hysterical giggle slip out.   


“Yes.”  


Draco almost smiled as he sat on the edge of the table beside Hermione’s uncomfortable chair.   


“I’ve just said goodbye to my mother. Give me another day and I’ll see what I can do.”  


“I’m so sorry,” Hermione said automatically.   
  
“So am I,” Draco sighed.   
  
The next thing Hermione knew, he had ahold of her hand, again. All of her frustration and will to bicker evaporated at the touch of his fingertips across her palm. Hermione held her breath as Draco lifted her knuckles to his lips.  
  
“I want you,” he said.   
  
Butterflies burst to life in Hermione’s stomach at the look in Draco’s eyes as he pulled her to her feet and into a bruising kiss. Under her palms, Draco’s heart was racing and Hermione smiled against his mouth. He wasn’t alone in the least. Her amusement was devoured by heat that stretched through her limbs and settled low in her stomach. Strong hands slid down her back to her hips. Hermione gasped to feel him, hard and hot, against her.

 

The swift, tiny knock went unnoticed but the squeak of a house-elf was like a pail of cold water.

 

“Master Lucius says guest is leaving, Master Draco.”

 

Draco released Hermione and she stumbled backwards, turning her face from the tiny creature in embarrassment.

 

“Nibby,” Draco said in a warning, tight voice.

 

“Yes, Master Draco?”

 

“Next time you knock, wait for my reply before coming in.”

 

“Yes, Master Draco. A thousand apologies, sir.” The house-elf bowed low and then scampered out.

 

“I’m going to…” Hermione couldn’t finish her sentence upon meeting Draco’s gaze.

 

“You can’t avoid me forever,” he said.

 

“I won’t,” she softly promised, then made her escape.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The next morning, Hermione found only Draco at the breakfast table. When he greeted her, a furious blush burned up her throat and spread across her cheeks. She muttered a barely audible reply and avoided meeting his gaze as she poured herself a cup of tea.

 

Draco cleared his throat and Hermione finally looked at him over the rip of her cup.

 

“Any plans today?”

 

“Oh, er… I don’t really know.” Was he kidding? She could barely think being in the same room with him. She’d spent the entire night dreaming about him.

 

“There is going to be a wedding… Perhaps you have opinions on the ceremony you’d care to share with the witch father hired to organize it…”

 

Hermione’s mind sharpened a bit as she focused on something other than the wizard in front of her. _The wedding…_

 

“Is this really going to happen..?” she breathed and pressed her trembling hands around the cooling cup.

 

“Do you not remember that we’re already married?”

 

Espying a flash of the old Draco actually made Hermione feel better. She even hid a grin.

 

“Yes, yes. But I’ve got to stand up in front of the world and pledge to spend the rest of my life with you,” she quipped.

 

Draco’s silence made Hermione wonder if she shouldn’t have been more careful with her words. She met his pale gaze and remembered, again, that she wasn’t alone; Draco would be beside her, making the same promise. Before Hermione could think of something to say, he left the dining room.

 

Hermione had been in the library, pulling books on contract law for a few minutes when Draco joined her.

 

“You’ve got to answer your owls,” he said, unceremoniously dumping a few scrolls on the table before her.

 

“Draco, I’m glad you’re here,” she said, moving towards him.

 

“Yeah?” he asked skeptically.

 

“I must apologize. My head is spinning. I keep forgetting that I’m not the only one in this,” she took another step towards him.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Draco arched a brow.

 

“Right, well answer your letters. I don’t want anyone accusing us of holding you hostage.”

 

Hermione settled at the desk and composed responses to her friends; even Ginny. She was as vague as she could be about the details of the vow but she confirmed that there would be a wedding and they should expect invitations. Draco was right; she had better meet with the wedding witch before it was too late to give her opinions.

 

Hermione filled with sudden longing to see her friends. She missed Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and even Luna, fiercely. Tears filled her eyes as she sealed her scrolls with wax. She doubted they’d like to visit her at Malfoy Manor but she wanted to see them and she didn’t want to bring Draco or Lucius along. She’d talk to Lucius about it. Surely, he wouldn’t begrudge her visitors. Where was Lucius, anyhow?

 

“Finished?” asked Draco, just beside her.

 

Hermione startled and then found herself blushing at his nearness. She hadn’t realized he’d remained in the library while she wrote.

 

“You’re jumpy,” Draco commented, leaning close to gather her letters and pass them to a silent house-elf.

 

“Doesn’t it bother you at all? That a spell can make you… Feel things?”

 

“It’s not _all_ magic.”

 

“No?” Hermione asked, voice breathy. Draco was still close and she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. She as grateful to be seated at the desk while he stood.

 

“Have you ever seen the effects of a love potion? Or a lust spell?” he asked archly.

 

Hermione thought for a moments. “Love potions.”

 

“Having _experienced_ both, the vow’s magic is quite different – influential rather than driven.”

 

“Are you telling me that what I feel is natural?” Hermione asked, nonplussed.

 

“Exactly what do you feel?” Draco asked.

 

His amusement made Hermione feel all sorts of things. She genuinely liked his teasing and the mischievousness in his eyes. He looked his age rather than haunted and angry. Despite herself, her body responded, warming and tightening.

 

“I want you,” she said simply.

 

Would it be possible for her to forgive him? The things he’d said to her? The things he’d done? If she overlooked their history, she might be content. However, the only way she could move forward with him was to have the difficult conversation.

 

“And what do you feel?” Hermione countered.

 

Draco’s humor faded and he moved away, absent-mindedly running his hands across book spines. Undaunted, Hermione followed him.

 

“Anything more than physical?” she asked.

 

After a few more steps, Draco leaned his back against the shelves. Hermione fought the urge to move closer, to lean into him.

 

“You want an apology?”

 

“Not necessarily. I just want to know how you feel about... Our past.”

 

“It is best left in the past. And, I would do it all again.”

 

Hermione nodded, understanding. He’d done what he must to protect his family. “And Muggle-borns? How do you feel about them – us?”

 

Draco shook his head. “It wasn’t my opinion that mattered.”

 

“That’s past tense. And now?”

 

Draco stared at the cold fireplace. Spots of angry pink grew on his cheeks and he moved away.

 

Hermione reasoned she’d got all she would out of him. She returned to the desk, allowing him whatever space he needed. The books on magical contract law awaited her attention.

 

“Since you asked, there is one in particular I find equal parts vexing and attractive…” Draco said in a low tone from behind her.

 

While she wished she could get a straight answer out of him, one without humor or salt, she found that it was enough that they understood one another.


End file.
